Aulia insisted that Timu go back to the dormitory to put on a clean shirt and comb his hair – “at least.”  She could see that he was more than a little unnerved, so she waited for him and walked with him to the palace.

            “Where the devil is Lord Karula’s apartment?” Timu muttered as they passed the guard that stood before the doorway between the old castle and the new palace.

            “Ask a servant.  Timu – you had better go on your own now – do not worry –” she squeezed his hand reassuringly, and he watched her go, then he went on to find a likely servant to direct him.

            The young man in livery whom Timu eventually stopped treated him like an inferior, and after beginning to give him directions, seemed to think better of it – either because he thought Timu too stupid to follow them or because he felt such a rough fellow couldn’t be trusted on his own in the palace – and he brought him to Lord Karula’s door personally. A footman stood outside it, and the servant said simply, “This fellow has a summons to see Lord Karula,” jogging Timu’s elbow so that he would show the envelope with Karula’s seal.

            Timu muttered a thank you to his guide as the footman opened the door to admit him to the entrance hall of the apartment, and then went to find his master.  Everyone in the palace seemed to take him for a stable boy.  This message must be a mistake after all.  Timu pulled the sheet a little out of the envelope and saw quite clearly “Dear Lord Maarinen.”  Disconsolately he thrust it back into the envelope, and then all into the breast of his jacket, and looked around the room he found himself in.  It was just the entrance hall, but its floor was carpeted with a thick Albraharan rug, and the paneled walls were hung with bright tapestries. A carved chair of Xanthian mahogany, seeming more to be looked at than sat in, was placed near the door, and Timu sank down on it gingerly. He noticed that his soft shoes were scuffed and dusty, and his leggings rather baggy at the knees.  At least his cuffs and collar were clean, thanks to Aulia.

            At first the silence of the apartment nearly rang in Timu’s ears, but at last it was broken by the sound of voices behind a door at the end of the hall: a man’s voice, briefly, and then, at more length, a woman’s.

            Timu recognized the woman’s voice before he even heard it properly.  He stood involuntarily as the door opened and Lady Rilsa emerged alone.

            “Lord Maarinen: so good of you to come!”  Her hair and dress were perfectly composed today, and as she came forward she held out her hand.  Timu had presence of mind enough to take it and bend his head over it in the formality of a kiss, then she grasped his hand and led him through a different door into a sitting room.

            “Sit down, my lord.” Lady Rilsa led him to a sofa covered in Xanthian brocade and pulled him down to sit beside her. “I know I have the advantage of you at the moment – till now you had no idea that I was Lady Rilsa Karula, did you?”

            “I had no idea who you were, ma’am.”  Timu rummaged in his jacket.  “Your husband sent me this note –”

            “I sent you that note,” she interrupted, with a hint of laughter in her voice. “A small subterfuge.  The matter of the message is completely sincere, however. I do wish to discuss with you your future in the service, and offer you my husband’s help – and mine, for what it is worth.” Rilsa held his gaze easily.  Her eyes were large and brilliant blue, and shaded by long dark lashes. There was something he did not like in all of this, and it would be best to get it out in the open.

            “Ma’am, if this is about what happened yesterday – if you wish to buy my silence – there is no need –” his voice faded as Lady Rilsa laughed.

            “I am not the least concerned about what happened yesterday, provided your little rabbits are all right.  Did the mother return? Is the family safe?”

            Timu couldn’t tell if she was mocking him, and decided to respond sincerely. “She returned, and the family is safe.”

            “That is settled then.  No, this is about your career, Lord Maarinen, and nothing else.” She took his hand again and squeezed his fingers.  “I see you are puzzled.  Let me explain.” She released his hand and at last released his eyes, but still he could not seem to look at anything but her – her smooth face, her golden hair, her long neck, her disconcerting bosom.  With an effort Timu forced himself to concentrate on what Lady Rilsa was saying.

            “My companion yesterday informed me of your identity.  Of course I have heard of the Maarinen – one of the great families of the service – and I know that your sister is betrothed to His Highness, Prince Renhold – so the other things Sir Brant said of you were – quite disturbing.

            “The reputation you have at the moment, my dear Lord Maarinen, is most unfortunate. A career in the diplomatic service depends on the respect and goodwill of one’s colleagues, and you have taken no trouble to be well-regarded either by your masters or your fellow students.  You cannot deny it.”  This time as Lady Rilsa fixed her gaze on him Timu looked down at his scuffed shoes.

            “No, ma’am.  I have no talent for being liked.”

            “It is something you can learn, however, and I intend to teach you. Between my efforts in improving your behavior and my husband’s in obtaining you a good position, you will embark on your career, in a few months’ time, with every advantage possible.”

            “But why do you want to do this?”

            “Because I like you.  I liked the way you defended your rabbits.  I even like the way you go your own way here in Essin – though it cannot serve your future, it does show a fine spirit.  And there is no other occupation for a woman like me at court than to cultivate good friends in high places.”

            “Ma’am?”

            “I will help you now, and when you have position and prestige, you will remember your friend, Rilsa.”

            So, it was politics. It was an investment in her future.  And it was something else too. She could not conceal those thoughts from him, and they were evident even in the way she looked at him – not just at his face, but at his shoulders, his arms, his legs. . .  Timu licked his lips and when he spoke he spoke very slowly.

            “Ma’am, you are very kind to  make  this  offer,  but  as  you  say, I  go  my  own  way  in Essin –”

            “Please! No more of this ‘ma’am’ business,” she interrupted. “How old are you, Lord Maarinen?”

            “I will be seventeen at Midsummer,” Timu answered in some puzzlement.

            “And how old do you suppose I am?  No, do not answer that.  It is not wise to ask a gentleman to guess a lady’s age – he is always in danger of giving offense, one way or another. I will tell you: I am twenty-three – younger than your sister, so there is no need to call me ‘ma’am,’ or even ‘my lady.’  I am Rilsa.  And you are Timu.”  She seemed to want him to try it out, so he did.

            “Rilsa.”

            “Much better.  Now, as to you going your own way:  I am sure your family has its own interests, which you share, and they can only be advanced if you position yourself correctly. That is what I wish to help you do: go your own way effectively.”

            “Do you share those interests?”

            “Timu, my only real interest is myself.  You must realize that, though you scarcely know me.”  Her eyes captured his once more, and without really meaning to he entered her thoughts quite easily.  It was certainly true. She was thinking of him, but in a way that had more to do with her own pleasure than with his “interests.”  She was thinking of dressing him in fine clothes, taking him among Essin’s nobility, taking him aside privately –

            “Timu.”  It was a whisper, and he became aware that she was leaning toward him so that their faces were nearly touching.  She reached out to his cheek with her fingertips. “The next time you come here, it will really be at my husband’s invitation, and you must shave – not the mustache – only trim that – and wear your best clothes – your mother must have included something suitable to court in your wardrobe.  Make an effort.”  Her eyes strayed all around his face, and his own eyes couldn’t catch them.  Her words were like something Elian might say, but the last thing her attitude resembled was that of a sister.  All he could manage to do was swallow hard and murmur quite compliantly, “Rilsa.”

            In the time before he left her, Rilsa coached Timu in how he must behave and what he must say when he should be invited back by Lord Karula.  She also lectured him on how he should alter his manners at school, and he assured her that he had already resolved to do so, for Elian’s sake.  She was gratified, she said, that he was such a loving brother.  Timu felt his manners changing even as they spoke together.  Rilsa withdrew from him a little, and was friendly but a little formal, and he found himself matching her attitude, so that when they parted, at the outer door of the apartment, it seemed quite natural to bow and kiss her hand respectfully, and bid each other goodbye with “my lord” and “my lady.”

            By the time he had made his way back to the dormitory Timu found he was exhausted, though also exhilarated.  It was much too late to go sailing, so he went for a bath and spent the time before dinner looking through his wardrobe.  His mother had indeed packed many things that he had never thought of wearing, new clothes ordered for the entire school year, for various occasions, which he had totally neglected.  He summoned the footman who served the dormitory and gave him several shirts and jackets to be cleaned and pressed, and a pair of boots to be polished.  As he glanced in the mirror near the head of his bed before going to the dining hall it seemed the first time he had really seen his own reflection.  He could stand to shave, she was right – but in all, he was not a bad looking fellow.

 By the time the mother rabbit had returned, and Timu was satisfied that she was thoroughly settled with her litter, the sun was sinking beyond the western slopes that fell down toward the Gulf of Essin, and he knew that if he didn’t return to the school in short order he would miss his supper. Tomorrow was a day of rest from classes, anyway, and he could sleep in the morning and spend the afternoon sailing, and not have to deal with any of his classmates – and he would be unlikely to encounter any indiscreet lovers on the gulf. There was still that poem, too – as long as he could keep his mind pleasantly occupied, these other thoughts would not trouble him.

            The school’s courtyards were quiet – students from the city had returned to their homes, and all the rest were no doubt in the dormitories, getting ready for supper.  The last thing Timu expected was to hear someone call his name, so at first he didn’t hear it, until Aulia made an effort, and nearly shouted.

            “Timu Maarinen!”  He turned, and Aulia ran up from the colonnade before the library. She had her satchel on her back, hitched by its straps across her shoulders, and she ran like someone who really meant to catch up with him, so he stopped and waited.

            “Timu, what happened to you this afternoon?” She put her hand on his arm as she reached him and looked up at him intently.  He automatically shielded his mind.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean that everyone noticed that you were absent from all your remaining classes.  You had better be careful, or they will send you home – permanently.”

            “I wish they would,” Timu grumbled, and braced himself for Aulia’s disapproval.  She was such an earnest girl – not without a sense of humor, of course, but so serious about her schoolwork, and her mind-work.

            “But that would be such a waste – you have such wonderful gifts –”

            “Diplomatic service is not the only way to use them.”  Timu sighed and avoided Aulia’s eyes. He didn’t seriously consider trying to elaborate. No one understood what it was he wanted, even when he explained it.

            “If you are having trouble with your schoolwork, I would be glad to help you.”

            Timu let himself look at his classmate.  She really meant it.  She really was kind, and wanted to be helpful. “The only trouble I have is in concentrating.  I am sure I could understand it all, if I could bring myself to care about it.  Do you think you could help with that?”

            Aulia looked sincerely thoughtful.  “Maybe I can.  I have to go home now, of course, but maybe tomorrow I could come to meet you in the library – and we can talk about why it is that you do not care.  Maybe that would help.”  She looked so hopeful, that Timu couldn’t bear to refuse her. 

            “All right.  I will meet you tomorrow – but not too early.”

            “The fourth hour?  Is that late enough?” Aulia was smiling now, and it made her serious little face quite pretty.  Timu returned the smile and nodded, and she gave a happy little jump, then turned and ran off toward the doorway to the Service Hall arcade, calling back, “I will see you tomorrow!”

            It had grown so late that Timu was almost entirely alone in the dining hall while he ate his supper.  He had to put up with a few jibes from other students anyway, but they were so inane he easily ignored them. Maybe Aulia was right, and he should try a little harder – at least not make himself so conspicuous.  There were other lazy students though – it was not his fault if the mages picked him out particularly.  But they did, and it was up to him to deal with it.

            But tonight he would not make himself deal with anything.  After bringing all his dishes to the kitchen he went out again down the servants’ corridor and out to a place he knew in the back wall of the school where he could climb easily onto the roof.  From there, if he had wanted to, he could have crossed roofs and wall-tops and battlements, all the way across the school, across the old castle, and on to the palace.  But he didn’t.  Timu stretched out on his back on the steeply sloping roof tiles directly above the kitchen, comfortable in the balmy darkness, and gazed at the bright constellations, already rolling into their summer positions.  In an hour or so the dormitory would be quiet, and then he would go in.  But for now, this was perfect peace.

            Until he felt his sister’s communication.  He knew it was Elian: they had special places in each other’s minds, hollowed out in childhood, which they reserved for all their contact.

            “Timu  – you  cannot avoid me, Timu.  Father asked me to contact you.”

            “Why am I not surprised?  Was it Magus Soren?”

            “It was Magus Tadeo.  The headmaster, Timu. Soren and all your other masters went to see him this afternoon – all of them.  How do you manage it?”

            “It comes naturally, I suppose.” Even only in thought, Timu could tell that Elian was smiling – but she was also taking Father’s request seriously.

            “Magus Tadeo said that if you do not attend every class for the rest of the term, or if he has one more complaint of your disrespect, you will be sent home, and not be allowed to return. Do you know what that would mean to Father? I am sure you do not care yourself, but you should give a thought to what others have planned and hoped for.”

            “But what if I try, and fail their hopes anyway?  Elian, I just do not have a head for politics. Neither you nor Arn took posts in the service –”

            “Arn lacks your talent for mind-work.  And you know that I have other duties – or will, when the time comes.  If it comes.”

            “What do you mean, ‘if’?  You and Renhold will marry – and you will be queen of Vaaseli, in time.” 

            Elian held her thoughts back from him for what seemed a long while, until he felt that he must urge her to share what she was thinking.  “Elian?”

            “You are in Essin yourself, but you have no idea what is happening. Timu, the chancellor’s office is no longer funding the Telmi scholars.  Only Maaki and I are going north this summer, and the costs are coming entirely from our own pockets. No one else can, or will, take on that burden.”

            “Well, the chancellor is under no obligation to sponsor your work –”

            “No, but he has never failed to support anyone in Essin who wanted to join us.  This is more than withholding money, Timu.  It is a change of policy, and we fear it points the way to worse to come.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean Magus Paalo.  Timu – Renhold says it is the Lord Chancellor beginning to show his true colors, and I believe him.”

            Timu tried to think what Elian was saying.  He knew that Prince Renhold had always disliked and distrusted Valmur Karoli, ever since he was a little boy, ever since Lord Valmur rose to his position.  And he knew that Magus Paalo despised the Maarinen and Elu and all the other oldest service houses.  Paalo was head of service now, but he still saw the founding families as some sort of tyranny of mind-work and diplomacy.  He thought them too closely tied to Alliance interests, and not sufficiently jealous of Vaaselian prestige and power.

            “It was Lord Valmur who put Paalo in his position, Timu.  And now he is swinging like a weathercock to all the magus’ political positions. He calls it compromise, for the sake of stability.  And Renhold says that his father believes him.”

            Timu could tell that Elian was more distraught over these political developments than she was about his indiscretions.  That was just as well; she wouldn’t nag him.

            “That is one reason we all want to see you do well in the service, Timu.  Our family needs to have someone there, in Essin, near Paalo, to provide a balance. You should be making friends among your classmates, gathering allies, to support us and Prince Renhold.”

            They want me to play politics in earnest, Timu thought to himself. So that they can study their pet savages?  That cannot be the only reason. 

            “You see how hopeless I am at all of this?  I know nothing, as you say, and understand it not at all.”

            “Timu, I will send you some books – Arn has published his history of the Toler, and there is much more in it than just the story of the southern conquest of the north.  You should read it.”

            “I will – for Arn’s sake and yours, if nothing else.”

            “And my Telmi grammar – you would like the language, Timu – it is lovely for poetry – surely you have heard Maaki recite and sing –”

            “Yes, I have – you are right – it is a lovely language. You would like it if I learned it?”

            “You would like it, Timu.”

            Timu felt more than a little guilty.  Elian was so worried, and he was so ignorant of what was troubling her.  She wanted his help, he knew, but he felt there was nothing he could do.  He had spent most of his life ignoring the very things she cared most about, and she wanted him to care, for his own sake as much as for hers. He really was not much of a brother now that he came to think about it.  A spoiled baby, just as people here in Essin thought.

            “Send me the books, Elian, and I promise I will study.  When you return from the north at harvest, I will be able to discuss them with you.  And I promise I will be good in school, too, from now on – and try to make friends.”

            “Have you no friends, still?”

            “Well, maybe one.  Do you know Aulia Taarko?”

            “The Taarkos of Essin or the Taarkos of the Mynath?”

            “Of Essin.  At least, Aulia lives in the city.”

            “That would be more likely, if you are friendly. They are old allies, though they have little power these days.”

            “Well, even before you contacted me tonight, I had agreed to meet with Aulia tomorrow so that she can help me study.  You see, I am trying.”

            “I know you are, little brother.  Father will be glad to hear it. But if you are to study on your day of rest, I should let you go to bed.”

            “Goodnight, Elian.  Give my love to Mother and Father.” Their mind-link closed gently, as if a thin curtain fell between their thoughts. Timu yawned and stretched, arching his back up from the roof tiles.  It would be good to go to bed tonight, and even good to get up in the morning.  Maybe Aulia could help him.

            The tower bells were ringing the fourth hour of the morning when Timu’s eyes opened. There were a few other fellows still snoring in the dormitory, filled with bright sunlight though it was. For a moment Timu felt a little panicked, as though he was late for something, without knowing why at first, and then he remembered Aulia.  Well, she would not expect him to be on time – and he would not keep her waiting long.

            Aulia was alone in the long study hall of the library, looking very small at a wide table in the middle of the great room under the vaulted ceiling. The morning sunlight shone through the tall windows directly on her yellow hair – tightly braided, as always – and she was reading a book with great attention and apparent unconcern for anything except the text before her.

            “I am sorry to be late,” Timu whispered as he slid into the chair beside her. Aulia finished the passage she was reading before looking up, marking her place with her finger.

            “I am not surprised.  Never mind.”

            There was a rather awkward silence, during which Timu picked up books from the stack in front of Aulia and scanned their spines.

            “Toler and Telmi: a History of the North – my brother’s book – is this yours?’

            Aulia nodded.

            “My sister is sending me a copy – and her own Telmi grammar.  Do you have that too?”

            “Not yet.  Books are so expensive.”

            “I will ask her to send one for you too. I had no idea you were interested in this stuff.  If I had I would have done it before.”

            “You are not interested in your own brother and sister’s work?”

            “Well – it is not so impressive if you have lived with it for long. For the last five years it has been all they ever think about. It gets a little boring as a steady diet. But I have just promised Elian to take an interest.” Timu was surprised at the real expression of happiness that lit up Aulia’s face.

            “We could study the Telmi language together,” she said enthusiastically.  “If you would like to,” she added, looking down again at the table.

            “I would like that.”   Another silence.  This whole thing was Aulia’s idea.  She should be the one to keep the conversation going – this was the whole reason Timu had no friends.  He never knew how to speak to anyone.  The boys were rude and stupid, and the girls expected him to do the talking.

            “If you have no interest in your family’s work, and no interest in your training,” Aulia began at last, a little primly, and not looking at Timu, “what are you interested in?”

            “Well, I am interested in the mind-work –”

            “I understand you hardly need the training in that.”

            “Oh, I have learned a great deal – technique does not come naturally – but I do not look forward to having to put my abilities in the service of my country – and yes, I know how disgraceful that sounds.”

            “It depends on what your country asks of you, I suppose.  The way I look at it, I will be in service to the Alliance first, and Vaaseli second.  I know that is how other nations look upon their service.”

            “That is hardly any better.  What is the Alliance to me?”  Timu saw that Aulia’s faint disapproval was developing into an exasperation that put her at a loss for words.  She set her lips in a pout of consternation for a moment, then seemed to make an effort to be patient.

            “Well, what do you wish to use your abilities for, in that case?”

            Timu shrugged and shook his head, and realized that his face was flushing.  She would ask.

            “No, go ahead, tell me,” Aulia urged, with real kindness. Timu took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the great, sun-filled windows.

            “I have been studying animals and birds all my life – in the fields and forests of our estate – and I wish to comprehend their minds – I believe they have minds – and we could learn from them.” He didn’t dare to look at his companion.  She would surely be laughing in a moment.

            “What would we learn?” She actually seemed to be taking him seriously, and he risked a glance at her face.  Her eyes were focused on him intently, and there was no sign of laughter in them, only curiosity.

            “How to live in peace, maybe.” It seemed somehow a very large way to express the random thoughts he had been thinking lately, but it also seemed to make sense anyway.

            “If that is what you want, then you should be serving the Alliance,” she said flatly, as though it were quite obvious.  And suddenly it seemed obvious to Timu too.  Maybe the Vaaselian service would not be interested in his peculiar ideas, but there might be mages of the Alliance in other countries who would think them worthwhile. “Do you think that anyone –” he began, but she seemed to know his thought before he spoke it.

            “In Albrahar, and certainly in Ravella, such ideas might find a good reception.  People think very differently in those countries.  Especially in the Ravellan League.”

            “Well, in Ravella they do not even have a king, or nobles.  I suppose they might go in for other strange notions, too.”

            Timu was surprised at how quickly Aulia bristled.  “           There is nothing strange about Ravellan society – it is really most natural.”

            “Well, I really do not know that much about it, I suppose –”

            “You should know before you judge.”

            “Inform me,” Timu smiled at her, and was glad to see her relax a little, and glad to let her talk, and let himself relax too and only listen.  Ravellans considered themselves all to be equals, whatever their origins and occupations – any man, or even woman, could sit upon the General Council – or even be elected Governor – every person seventeen and older was able, and expected, to vote in local and general elections –

            “What, they let young idiots like me have a voice in how they are governed?”

            “You need not be young to be an idiot – the wiser heads balance out the idiots, I suppose.”

            “But how would a farmer or a shoemaker have the education –”

            “Anyone can be educated, in Ravella.  The guilds and the towns fund grammar schools for all children to attend, and in the country farmers club together to support the teachers they need for their children.  Nearly everyone learns to read and write and do arithmetic, and there are teachers in all the cities who give other lessons to older children and adults, for pay – though it need not always be money.  Sometimes it is only room and board, or barter for a new pair of shoes, or the use of a horse and cart.”

            Timu sat back in his chair, and Aulia blushed at his expression.  He was impressed, and he didn’t trouble to conceal it.  “How do you know so much about Ravella?”

            Now it was Aulia’s turn to shrug and hide her blushes.  “When we do distance exercises, I converse with the Ravellan students.  I want to go on mission there, when I graduate.”

            “I bet you will.”

            They looked at each other steadily for awhile, silent, but no longer awkward.

            “Well, if I must serve the Alliance,” Timu said at last, “I will have to make up for lost time and begin to study.  Are you still willing to help me?”

            “We can begin with Paarin-Khan –”  Timu pushed his chair back, laughing, and pretending he was going to leave, and Aulia laughed and grasped his hand and made him sit again.  “It is nothing but a fishing agreement, really,” she began explaining at once.  “It sorted out where and when the Xanthian and Vaaselian fishermen could fish the northern sea, so they could use their knives to gut their catch, instead of each other.”  Timu laughed again.

            “If only Soren explained it like that, I would have listened.  You should be a teacher.”

            “Maybe when I am too old for active service I will be.  And for now I can practice on you.”  Aulia reached for a book from the stack, and Timu resigned himself.  There would be no sailing today, evidently.

            It was past midday, and Timu was taking notice of his lack of breakfast, before Aulia declared they had done enough for one session, and began to stuff her books back in her satchel. There would most likely be nothing left to eat in the dining hall – he would have to make another raid on the kitchen – but there still might be time for a little sail – maybe he should invite her – no, he still needed time alone, and every opportunity in the last two days had been interrupted –

            “Lord Maarinen!”

            Damn and blast.  Timu turned reluctantly.  It was his prefect, fussy Haarnonen – the oldest young man in Essin.  What could the wretch want?

            “Maarinen – I have been looking everywhere for you.  I must say, this is the last place I thought of – hello, Lady Aulia,” Haarnonen actually took Aulia’s hand and kissed it – how could he be such an idiot?  At least she seemed to think it silly, too – an eighteen year old schoolboy, using court manners on a – how old was she – fourteen, fifteen? – a little girl, really, anyway.

            “What is it, Haarnonen?” Timu didn’t try to disguise his weariness with his pretentious schoolfellow.

            “A message – from Lord Karula.”  Haarnonen took an envelope out of the breast of his jacket and flourished it before handing it to Timu.  Timu stared at it.  It had a seal – the house of Karula, he supposed, whoever they were – Haarnonen knew them, anyway.  Timu looked at Aulia.

            “Lord Karula,” she said, with emphasis, as though she expected him to recognize the name.  “The privy councilor for the diplomatic service.”  She seemed impressed – and maybe a little – upset – alarmed? Was he in trouble?

            “What could a privy councilor want with me?”

            “Well, if you open it –” Haarnonen drawled.

            Timu gave himself a little shake, and slid his finger under the wax seal, took out the single sheet of paper, and scanned it apprehensively.

            Aulia was jigging up and down with impatience by the time Timu turned to her bemusedly.  “He wants me to see him – this afternoon – about an appointment to a service internship for my last year of school.”

            “Good job, Maarinen,” said Haarnonen at once.  “With Lord Karula as your patron, you can have any assignment that you ask for.  I will not ask you how you managed it.”  And he gave Timu a little pat on the shoulder and turned to leave.

            “But I did nothing –” Timu turned to Aulia, almost pleading.  “I have done nothing to seek this –”

            Aulia shook her head, smiling slightly.  “I am not jealous,

though I know that Haarnonen is – do not worry.  I am sure that

Lord Karula has heard about your talent.  And you are a Maarinen.”

I'm sticking my neck out and posting what I hope will be a short story, under 50 pages, in installments as I go along.  I've been struggling to write something of the sort about my characters -- something epiphanic.  Mostly my people develop slowly, almost glacially, and it's hard to write a fairly pithy narrative about a single event in their lives. But I think this bit of Timu's backstory is suitable.  It certainly is rushing out at the moment.

            “Lord Maarinen . . .”

            The little grey finch-wife poked her head out of the pocket of woven twigs and grasses that formed her nest in the budding branches of the lilac bush, as her white-breasted husband fluttered down to perch on its edge, offering her a cricket. They looked for all the world as though they were kissing.

            “Lord Maarinen!”

            Timu grudgingly turned his eyes and mind away from the classroom window and to the white-faced magus who stood before him.  “Sir?”  There was sniggering and shuffling in the room around him, which the magus stifled with a baleful glance up and down the rows of seats. He turned back to the front of the room, pacing slowly.

            “Perhaps Lord Maarinen would like to inform us of the significance of the Paarin-Khan Accord to Xanthian relations?”

            Timu sat up a little straighter in his chair and scratched his ear lobe. “I would like to, Magus – if I knew the first thing about it.”

            The magus turned again as once more the sniggering began, breaking out in places into giggles, and he repeated his practiced glare until the class was silenced, finally turning the full force of his displeasure on Timu.  “See me after class, my lord,” he said icily.  “Lady Aulia, if you would enlighten young Maarinen, and the rest of us?”

            Timu shook his head and slumped again in his seat as Aulia Taarko’s soft voice began an explication of the supposed significance of the musty old treaty.  Why did he not just call on Aulia in the first place?  All they wanted to do was torture him.  History and politics were no use to him; he would never be a diplomat.  He was going to be a scholar, like Elian and Arn, but a student of the ways of Vaaseli’s wild beasts and the land they lived in.  Why did Mother and Father have to send him to the blasted service school anyway?  He could have had a tutor at home – he could manage to pick up what he needed of mind-work from Magus Tuomus.  Wasting his time, putting everyone out of temper – that was all that school was good for.

            Timu felt something small and wet strike his cheek sharply and looked in the direction it had come from. That oaf, Loumi – why not call on him and see how much he knew? – the idiot – spitballs in the fifth year of the second form – how did they expect to make a diplomat of that? Timu’s gaze drifted once again to the view outside the window.

            One day soon he would find the way to truly join his mind to a mind in another species – he just knew it.  Birds might not be the best to begin with, though.  Maybe this afternoon he could get away and into the forest . . .

            The bells in the tower above the exercise yard rang out, signaling the end of at least this hour of Timu’s personal torture.  Except for the conference with Magus Soren.

            The magus stood at his table, stacking his books and papers while the students filed out, some into the exercise yard, some into corridor.  Timu stayed in his seat until his teacher summoned him, and when he stood he made up his mind to behave himself perfectly – by his own lights at least.

            What Magus Soren perceived, however, was conceit and defiance.  It was what he expected to see, in any case.  Lord Maarinen had the innocent face of a boy, but the physique of a man, and his willfulness was more a man’s than a boy’s too.  His parents had let him run wild in the country too long before sending him to Essin; that was the trouble.

            “Lord Maarinen,” he began in patient tones, “I am sure you would rather not have another bad report sent home to your father.  Lord Arvi has great hopes for you – it is not becoming for a loving son to disappoint his family.”

            “I have no wish to disappoint anyone, magus.  I only fear I am not well suited to the career they plan for me.”

            “You have great talent, which could surely benefit your country.”

            Timu shrugged his shoulders. Why could he not be left to use his telepathic ability for his own purposes, as he saw fit?  Why must everything always be for the good of Vaaseli?

            “Sir, I do manage to pass my examinations –”

            “Heaven knows how –”

            Timu looked down briefly, shielding his mind a little.  It was true that he sometimes scanned the minds of other students, when he found himself in a tight place, but the magus did not need to know that. “I will try to be more attentive in class, magus,” he promised, with what he hoped would pass for sincerity.

            The magus harrumphed and gathered up his belongings.  “See that you succeed,” he said brusquely, and fixed Timu with his glare one last time before leaving the room.

            Timu sighed heavily and went to his seat to collect his satchel.  The father finch had flown away when the students poured out into the exercise yard, and the mother was huddled out of sight, protecting her future family.  Timu made up his mind in that instant.  He would spend the afternoon in the forest.  They could send all the reports they liked. Maybe then his parents would understand, and free him from this absurd indignity.

            When the bells rang out again to signal the start of the next classes, Timu hurried into the school building along with the rest of the students, but slipped into the corridor that led to the kitchens.  Cook would be glad to let him have a loaf of bread and a flask of water, and then he could slip out through the servants’ quarters and into the hills.  There was that rabbit’s nest, with its clutch of new babies he wanted to check on.  He could spend the afternoon concealed and contented, and maybe work on the poem that had begun to come to him the last time he was in the forest.  The first lines were firmly fixed in his memory, waiting for the rest to follow.

            With his bread and water in his satchel, and what seemed like the weight of the whole school shed from his shoulders, Timu strode briskly and happily up the meadow toward the forest.  It was madness to huddle within stone walls on such a glorious spring day. Why did they wish to make him as mad as they were?  He would suffer his last year in the service school for his family’s sake, if that was truly what they expected of him, and even take a post in the service for awhile, but he would not sacrifice his own interests and dreams for the petty games of politics.  He would be the first scholar to apply the science of the mind to the whole of the Creator’s works – perhaps he would even find the germ of mind in plants, as well as animals.  If his sister and his brother could find something worth studying in the primitive Telmi, his own intuition about what people called the lower orders of life might be an equally rich field of endeavor.

            With such happy thoughts filling his mind, the hike uphill into the woods above Essin castle seemed quick and easy.  The rabbit set he had discovered was only a little way into the forest, where the meadows still broke into the trees in large swatches, already beginning to fill with their patterned carpet of brilliant flowers.  As he approached the trees Timu began to walk more slowly, and more softly, and he took a wide turn around the old oak whose roots protected the hole where the mother rabbit had made her nest for her little family.  It was a good tree to climb, and he quickly and quietly scrambled up the wide trunk on the opposite side from the rabbit’s nest, and shimmied out along one of its great branches, to a place where he could see the front door of the rabbit’s home.  She herself was there, on the front stoop, as it were, her little white tail twitching every now and then, and her ears swiveling to catch every sound as she nibbled at the grasses that grew just beyond the shade of the old tree’s branches.

            Timu sighed softly, lying at full length on his stomach on the comfortable old branch. Rabbits and deer had no politics.  Why did people need to trouble each other so?  Everyone needed and wanted the same things – food and shelter, companionship sometimes, opportunities for pleasure.  Why must it be so hard to cooperate so that everyone could have them?  Of course the rabbit might be eaten by a fox, and the fox taken by an eagle – but they never sought vengeance.  It was just as the Creator had made them. Men did not seem to know exactly what the Creator had made them for, that was the trouble.  And once they began arguing about it among themselves, there was no end to the trouble.

            There was no sign as yet of the babies emerging.  Timu knew they were there.  Last week he had even been able to hear some faint mewling coming from the hole, as the mother finished her feeding and the babies cried out for theirs. He was looking forward to seeing them, but it might be some days yet. 

            Timu felt his mind too lulled by the warm spring weather to put it to the trouble of seeking a way into the rabbit’s alien consciousness.  He’d never quite succeeded in the project, though sometimes, especially with animals at home on the estate – one or two of the dogs, his favorite horses – he was sure there was some contact. But today he was disinclined to make any sort of effort.

            Timu's thoughts gradually became clear and clean, but his mind was still sharply aware, and so he heard the rustling of the meadow grass down the slope of the hillside before he heard the jingle of horses’ tack and the sounds of human voices.  It was already too late to climb down the tree and retreat deeper into the forest, however, so he waited, hoping that the people coming his way would go on, or turn aside, and leave him and the rabbit family in peace.

            It was not to be however.  Here they came, on foot, a man and a woman – a gentleman and a lady, rather.  Timu kept as still as he could, still hoping they would not stop.  The woman was leading and the man following – almost pursuing, except that she was not really trying to elude him.  The rabbit had long since scampered into the underbrush nearest the spot where she had been grazing by the time the man seized the woman in his arms, and pulled her to the ground, both of them now laughing.

            Timu couldn’t think why he continued to watch.  He wasn’t really thinking – his mind had slipped immediately into the mode of the observer.  It was a little different from the coupling of animals, though not much.  Of course the basic position was different, and the male seemed to want to take advantage of that to initiate mutual oral stimulation, which the female, for some reason, resisted, laughing. And it went on a little longer than relations between a buck and a doe, for example.  But, Timu reflected, it really was all the same business.  Why two people should wish to come into the forest to do it, when a bedchamber was obviously more suited to their requirements, was a little puzzling. He hoped they wouldn’t linger once they were finished.  That mother rabbit needed to get back to her babies. He shut his eyes resignedly, and waited.

            When he had heard the couple’s inarticulate voices finally subside into silence he looked again. Now the lady was sitting up and settling her skirt back around her legs, pulling up her stockings, and attempting to tidy her hair.  With the simpler readjustment of his clothing completed, the man still tried to grasp and grope at the lady’s breasts, but she slapped his hands and spoke crossly.

            Suddenly she was still, and shushed the gentleman emphatically.

            “What was that?” she said breathlessly, and then Timu heard what she had heard: the rustling in the hole beneath the tree roots and the very tiny mewling sounds of hungry babies.

            The lady immediately turned and crouched on her hands and knees, her face aglow with curiosity.  Timu could see the trembling flesh of her rather over-exposed bosom, and saw her reach her hand to the gap in the tree roots, and he knew he must stop her.

            “No!” He swung around on the branch, scraping his legs and tearing his leggings, and hung briefly from the rough bark by his fingertips before dropping to land on hands and knees directly on top of the lady.  She screamed as she collapsed beneath his weight on the mossy ground at the foot of the tree.

            “What the devil --?” The gentleman grabbed Timu roughly by the arm and pulled him to his feet, but Timu pushed him away with equal roughness and put his hand on the hilt of the knife in his belt. He looked down at the lady, who was struggling to her feet, but he didn’t offer a hand to assist her.  She reached out to her companion, who grasped her arm and helped her to stand.

            “You must not touch them,” Timu said urgently.  “You should go.”

            “Touch what?” the lady asked.  “What is it?” She kept glancing between the hole beneath the tree and Timu’s flushed face.

            “Baby rabbits – if you touch them their mother will kill them when she returns, for the smell of a human that will be on them.”

            The lady took a step toward Timu, though her companion still held her arm. “Do I smell that bad?”

            Timu sniffed involuntarily.  She smelled of expensive scent, and – he wrinkled his nose a little – something else – the smell of what she and the man had been doing, most likely.

            “You do – to a rabbit.”

            “Insolent pup,” the man snarled, pulling the lady back by the arm protectively, but she laughed.

            “Where is the mother then?” she asked,

            “You frightened her away.  She will come back when you are gone – please.”

            “What about you?”

            “I will go – when I know you have gone.”

            “We should go, Rilsa – we should not have come here.” The man turned to Timu, glowering. “What the devil were you doing up that tree – what did you see?”

            The lady put her hand on the gentleman’s arm.  “Darling, I am sure the poor boy saw nothing – am I right?” She turned to Timu and gave him a very warm smile, and reached out to his hand, giving his fingers a very tight squeeze.  Suddenly Timu was completely ashamed of having watched them, and he hung his head to hide his blushes, and muttered like a schoolboy, “I saw nothing, ma’am.”

            “There,” she exclaimed.  “All is well.  We will go, and I shall not disturb your rabbits.” And she pulled on her companion’s arm so that he had to follow, though he looked back at Timu with an extremely threatening expression.

            Lady Rilsa and Sir Brant retrieved their horses from the meadow where they had left them to graze, and mounted to return to Essin castle.  Brant was still fuming over their encounter with the boy in the forest, and Rilsa found herself becoming quite annoyed with him.

            “What if some stable-boy saw us?  He will not dare to say anything – he should have been about his duties, instead of idling in the forest.”

            “Stable-boy? That was no stable-boy, Rilsa.  That was Lord Timu Maarinen – the last of the litter.”

            Rilsa looked puzzled, then thoughtful. “Lord Maarinen?  Indeed.”

            “You do not know the Maarinen, do you?” Brant went on bitterly.

            “I know they have a rather large estate on the eastern marches – grain and livestock, forests, and so on.”

            “They are one of the most important families in the service.  Though in this generation they have turned to what they call scholarship.  Arn and Elian graduated from the service school, but disdained to become diplomats.  They have chosen instead to live among the savages in the north, and pretend that study of their way of life has some value.”

            “Is this boy in the service school, then?”

            “Yes, he is, though why exactly is a question many would like answered.”  Brant saw that Rilsa wanted him to continue, and he was in a mood to vent his feelings.  “My brother knows him.  He says Timu Maarinen is the laziest and most insolent fellow he has ever met, but the mages favor him, because of his parents.  And because they think he has extraordinary telepathic ability.  That is how he has managed to keep from being sent home – his quickness at mastering any sort of mind-work.”  Brant gave a twitch to the reins in his hands, making his horse throw up its head and dance a little to one side as they went at an easy pace down the meadow. “And more serious students labor away with no sign of favor.”  Like your little brother of course, thought Lady Rilsa.

            “I believe he will keep silent, though,” she said.  “He was embarrassed, poor thing.”  She sighed.  “What an innocent face he has.  And I think he was ready to stick that knife in you in defense of those poor rabbits!”

            Brant made a rude noise of derision, but Rilsa was laughing, and when she laughed he found he couldn’t help but join her.  “I do not believe he knows who we are in any case,” he admitted at last. “You are right,” he reached out to grasp Rilsa’s hand.  “There is no danger that any of this will get back to your husband.”

            When the intruders had gone, Timu climbed once more into the tree.  He would not leave until he was certain the mother rabbit had returned to her brood, and was at ease with them.  He also wanted time to compose himself, and recover from this strange encounter.

            Of course he had heard of couples indulging in this sort of thing in the meadows and the forests – there were some girls at school who were whispered about – but he’d never actually seen it.  And this was no school girl, but a fine lady of the court, that was obvious.  Who was she, anyway?  The man seemed vaguely familiar, but he had never seen the lady.  Of course he didn’t pay much attention to goings on in court.  He paid little enough attention to goings on in school, or in the service.  In the service.  That was where he had seen the man, of course.  He was a clerk in some department or another.  But this lady was just a lady, an idle noblewoman, clearly, with absolutely no telepathic ability.  When she had looked at him and smiled, he had been completely aware of her thoughts, and the kind of mind they inhabited, and it was shallow and simple. 

            And her thoughts.  Why would she think such things of him? – of a boy?